Cadwaller.
"Don't shoot till I speak or I shoot you!" he said sternly. Mr.
Cadwaller took the gun and covered the Indian. In a twinkling White
Horse found himself with handcuffs on his wrists and his bridle line
attached to the horn of the Inspector's saddle.
"Now give me that gun, Mr. Cadwaller, and here take your own--but wait
for the word. Forward!"
He had not gone a pace till he was surrounded by a score of angry
and determined Indians with levelled rifles. For the first time the
Inspector hesitated. Through the line of levelled rifles Chief Red Crow
rode up and in a grave but determined voice said:
"My brother is wrong. White Horse, chief. My young men not let him go."
"Good!" said the Inspector, promptly making up his mind. "I let him go
now. In two days I come again and get him. The Police never lie."
So saying, he released White Horse and without further word, and
disregarding the angry looks and levelled rifles, rode slowly off after
his party. On the edge of the crowd he met Sergeant Crisp.
"Thought I'd better come back, Sir. It looked rather ugly for a minute,"
said the Sergeant.
"Ride on," said the Inspector. "We will get our man to-morrow. Steady,
Mr. Cadwaller, not too fast." The Inspector slowed his horse down to
a walk, which he gradually increased to an easy lope and so brought up
with Cameron and the others.
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